An Open Letter to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, GCFR
By Chief (Comrade) Austine Ikubese

His Excellency,
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, GCFR
President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria

OPEN LETTER TO PRESIDENT BOLA AHMED TINUBU: Confronting Nigeria’s Security and Governance Challenges—Can the Nation Reclaim Its Future?

Your Excellency,

This marks my second open letter to you this year. In my first, I suggested that Nigeria’s crude oil be benchmarked at ₦100,000 per barrel for supply to the Dangote Refinery, with the aim of reducing the hardship caused by rising petroleum pump prices, particularly in the wake of global tensions such as the USA–Iran conflict. While that proposal may have seemed impractical due to Nigeria’s continued borrowing from the IMF and other international institutions, which limit our ability to fully exercise sovereignty over our natural resources, it was borne out of genuine concern for our nation’s welfare.

You may recall that I was among the earliest Nigerians—if not the first—to publicly advocate for crude-to-naira transactions with the Dangote Refinery. This was highlighted in my press release during a Christmas welfare program in December 2023, when I supported my wife, Hon. Mrs. Sarah Ikubese, the immediate past Special Adviser on WAPA, Oriade LCDA, Lagos. The Sun Newspaper published this on January 8, 2024.

Mr. President, I sincerely commend your courageous decision in May 2024, when through Executive Order you approved the sale of crude oil to the Dangote Refinery in naira. This policy has undoubtedly helped stabilize the economy and reduce pressure on foreign exchange. Such bold leadership reflects the same democratic spirit you demonstrated during your days as a NADECO chieftain, fighting for the democracy we now enjoy.

I am compelled to write again after returning from a month-long vacation in the United States with my wife. We traveled across five states and were struck by the quality of infrastructure, particularly the roads. During the U.S. Independence Day celebrations on July 4th, marking 250 years of their nationhood, I reflected on why their systems work while ours struggle. Friends explained that America’s longevity plays a role, but I observed that their progress is sustained by intentional governance; each administration builds upon the achievements of its predecessors, regardless of party affiliation.

The highways we drove on were not only well-constructed but maintained with precision. Road markings reflected clearly at night, reducing reliance on streetlights. Safety features such as rumble strips alerted drowsy drivers, while rest stops every 100 kilometers provided fuel, restrooms, and space for trucks and cars alike. These are simple yet life-saving measures that Nigeria must adopt. I urge our officials, particularly the Hon. Minister of Works, Dave Umahi, to not only focus on building durable roads but also to incorporate these critical safety features and continuous maintenance of our roads should equally be of utmost priority.

However, my primary reason for this letter goes beyond infrastructure. As Nigeria approaches the 2027 general elections, I urge you to reflect deeply on our nation’s history and the challenges we have faced. Leadership must ensure that history does not repeat itself in new forms. Instead, let history remember you as a true democrat who steered Nigeria toward progress, unity, and sustainable development.

LESSON FROM THE PAST
Permit me to start from when General Yakubu Gowon in the 70s said Nigeria’s problem was not money but how to spend it. This became a symbol of economic mismanagement. The Udoji Award of 1974, which flooded the economy with cash, triggered inflation and destabilized the nation.

General Murtala Muhammed’s brief but impactful tenure hinted at reform, but his assassination in 1976 cut short that promise. Likewise, the annulment of Chief Moshood Abiola’s historic June 12, 1993, election shattered the hopes of millions and remains a scar on our democratic journey.

These lessons remind us that opportunities, once lost, rarely return. Your administration must not repeat the mistakes of the past.

That being said, Mr. President kindly permits me however to commend the efforts your administration has made in navigating Nigeria through the turbulent realities of governance. Leading a nation as vast, diverse, and complex as ours is no small task, and the expectations upon your shoulders are immense. Yet, your government has taken deliberate steps to reposition the country, even as we grapple with economic hardship, persistent insecurity, and the enduring quest for unity.

Many Nigerians still hold faith in the promise of your presidency, that you will rise above political expediency and embody the statesmanship required to guide our nation toward justice, equity, and reconciliation.

But history beckons, Sir. A defining moment is upon us, one that will shape the legacy of your leadership for generations. The choices you make now will determine whether Nigeria emerges stronger or falters under the weight of its divisions. I write not merely as a citizen, but as a witness to history’s echoes and the shadows they cast upon our present. This is an urgent appeal, for justice, healing, and the redemption of our nation.

Nigeria at a Crossroads
Insecurity has become a nationwide crisis, eroding public trust, weakening institutions, and threatening the very foundation of our sovereignty. As Commander-in-Chief, the duty to safeguard lives and secure the nation rests squarely upon you. This responsibility is not ceremonial; it is the essence of leadership and the foremost obligation of your office.

To succeed, you must surround yourself not with sycophants, but with honest, independent-minded advisers who will tell you the truth, however inconvenient. Governance thrives not on flattery but on integrity, competence, and accountability.

Your history as a democrat and NADECO stalwart, one who dared the guns and boots of military dictatorship, remains a powerful testament to your courage. Today, as President, you must rekindle that spirit of sacrifice and endear yourself to the people. Only then will your “Renewed Hope” agenda resonate as genuine hope, rather than be dismissed as “renewed hunger and poverty.”

The Mandate of Renewal
Mr. President, your government is seen as the phenomenon that must redeem lost hopes and restore faith in the Nigerian dream.

Critics however have described your administration as a government of the politicians, by the politicians, and for the politicians”—suggesting that loyalty is driven by personal benefit rather than national interest. It is imperative to prove them wrong. Your NADECO legacy calls for a democracy that is truly “government of the people, by the people, and for the people”—both in principle and in practice.

I respectfully urge you to take decisive steps that will ease the hardship currently faced by Nigerians. As you prepare for the 2027 general elections, such actions will not only strengthen your Renewed Hope Agenda but also help transform it into what could be seen as a Genuine Hope Agenda—one that commands organic love and support from the people, rather than leaving that goodwill to the opposition.

By aligning your leadership with the needs of ordinary citizens, you will reinforce your democratic legacy and ensure that history remembers your administration as one that truly served the people.

This requires:

Purging your government of deadwood, those who lack integrity, transparency, and accountability.

Ensuring free and fair elections, obliterating rigging and restoring credibility to our democratic institutions.

Addressing divisive narratives by fostering inclusivity and national unity.

Delivering essential services, public health, infrastructure, and electricity must be treated as indispensable pillars of progress, not half-hearted projects riddled with neglect.

A Call to Action
In advanced nations, especially in the United States of America, and other advanced democracies; public health, road infrastructure, and electricity are regarded as indispensable services, pillars upon which national progress rests. Unfortunately, in our context, these services are often delivered in a half-hearted manner. Projects approved for execution are rarely subjected to rigorous supervision, and when oversight fails, the very citizens meant to benefit become victims once again. This cycle of neglect is as destructive as a terminal illness.

However, Nigerians do not expect miracles overnight. What we yearn for is a decisive break from mediocrity, a radical departure from complacency. The foundation you lay today will determine whether Nigeria rises to its destiny as a giant among nations. That foundation must rest on the competence, integrity, and vision of your cabinet.

Sir, as I conclude, I humbly reaffirm my loyalty to you, to our party (APC), to the Federal Republic of Nigeria, and to the ideals that bind us together. With a clear conscience and unwavering conviction, I urge you to seize this moment and lead with courage, justice, and compassion. It is also my prayer that God will grant you the strength, courage and the enablement to succeed for the greater good of our nation, Amen.

Please, accept the assurances of my highest regards, Sir.

Long live Your Excellency.
Long live the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
Long live our collective pursuit of justice, unity, and progress.

Yours faithfully,
Chief (Comrade) Austine Ikubese,
Community Leader, and Human Rights Advocate.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Follow our WhatsApp Channel

History has a way of keeping receipts. On February 3, 2026, Abuja turned 50. Fifty years since the Federal Capital was officially designated in 1976 by the Murtala/Obasanjo military government. Fifty years since the dream of a neutral, centrally-located capital for all Nigerians was put on paper. Fifty years of bulldozers, blueprints, blood, sweat, and billions.

It should have been a national moment. A day of reflection, of parades, of gratitude to the architects, the labourers, the military rulers, the civilian presidents, the ministers, and the citizens who built a city from forest and rock. Instead, there was silence.

The man constitutionally tasked to govern the FCT as its de-facto Governor — President Bola Ahmed Tinubu — said nothing of national weight on February 3, 2026.

The man physically administering the FCT — Minister Nyesom Wike — was not in Abuja. He was in Rivers State, touring Local Government Councils in what was clearly a political show of force to his “master”, President Tinubu, to recognise that he is still in charge of Rivers politics. That was the trigger for my anniversary article here in which I pleaded with the president to apologise to the nation for the historic miss. He did not.

Months later, the Minister completed a 31-day commissioning spree to mark “Tinubu @ three (3)”. He crowned it with a lavish dinner. Earlier, in response to the query over the great miss in February, Wike promised, in his own words, a commemorative “compendium” for Abuja@50 to coincide with Tinubu@3. The compendium never came. The apology never came. The celebration never came. So we are left with one question:
Why did Nyesom Wike assume that Abuja@50 didn’t matter? And the more dangerous question: What does it say about a man who believes 31 days of his own projects can erase 47 years of history before him?

This is not about Wike. This is about memory. This is about the danger of a public official who believes his boisterous nature and media blitz can obliterate history.

‘Abuja@50: What we should have celebrated real time’

To understand the crime of omission, you must first understand what was omitted. Abuja did not start with Wike in 2023. Abuja started with a decree in 1976.

1976-1979: The Founders

Gen. Murtala Mohammed chose Abuja to end the chaos of Lagos — too congested, too coastal, too tribal. They set up the Federal Capital Development Authority, FCDA in 1976. The first master plan was drawn. The first roads were cut.

1980s: The Builders

Obasanjo set the physical development tone. Shehu Shagari continued. Gen. Ibrahim Babangida solidified and moved the seat of government in 1991. Generals Sani Abacha and Abdusalami Abubakar prepared the city ready for democracy. The Three Arms Zone — Aso Presidential Villa, National Assembly, Supreme Court — rose. The National Mosque and National Christian Centre gave the city its spiritual symmetry. The International Conference Centre, the Federal Secretariat, the CBN Headquarters, NNPC Complex and Quarters, DSS and NIA Complexes, the Police Headquarters, the unique Radio House, Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Garki, Wuse, Maitama, Life Camp, Asokoro Hospitals, University of Abuja, etc — all conceived and built before 1999 when democracy landed.

1999-2023: The Expanders

Obasanjo gave us, among others, many District infrastructure, the Millennium Park, completed National Hospital, CBN, restored Master Plan. Yar’Adua gave us policy – 10-lane Airport Road to Giri and Abuja-Madalla – Niger state boundary, etc. Jonathan gave us the Abuja Light Rail foundation and several Districts city roads infrastructure and many roads including the link from CBN to AYA, etc. Buhari gave us the second airport runway and light rail completion, among others Wike has been completing.

And sixteen (16) other FCT Ministers before Wike: John Jatau Kadiya, Abubakar Iro Dan Musa, Haliru Dantoro, Mamman Jiya Vatsa, Hamza Abdullahi, Gado Nasko, Jeremiah Useni, Mamman Kontagora, Ibrahim Bunu, Mohammed Abba Gana, Nasir el-Rufai, Aliyu Modibo, Adamu Aliero, Bala Mohammed, Musa Bello. This list included Ajose Adeogun, Special Duties Minister (in charge of Abuja 1976-1979) who began master plan and planning from Awolowo Road Ikoyi Office and Military Field Base, Suleja, Niger State.

They built several districts infrastructure and all the roads being expanded: Garki, Wuse, Maitama, Asokoro, Jabi, Gwarimpa — the largest single housing estate in Africa. They built schools, hospitals, markets, and 47 years of infrastructure. None of them claimed they did it alone. That is what Abuja@50 was meant to celebrate: continuity. The idea that Nigeria can build across regimes, across parties, across egos. Wike inherited that. He did not invent it.

‘The promise made and broken’

During the 31-day commissioning of projects to mark “Tinubu @ 3”, Wike was everywhere. Cutting ribbons. Facing cameras. Declaring himself “Mr. Projects”.
He forgot that at one point in February, he promised Nigerians “a commemorative compendium’ for Abuja@50. A book. A record. A tribute.

The date came and passed: 3rd February 2026. The book did not. The event did not. The apology did not. Instead, what we got was a dinner for Tinubu’s three years in July. A self-congratulatory dinner after 31 days of telling us how he had “done more in three years than other ministers in 47 years. That is the core of the problem: the assumption that Abuja began in August 2023. That assumption is dangerous because it is arrogant. It is ahistorical. And it is ungrateful.

‘Seven reasons “Abuja@50 didn’t matter assumption hurts Nigeria’

The danger to history: Erasure by ego. When a sitting minister acts as if nothing existed before him, he commits historical erasure. Did Wike build the Three Arms Zone? No. Did he pour the foundation of the National Assembly? Did he design the Unity Fountain? Did he award the contract for the Abuja-Kaduna rail? Did he build the NICON-NOGA HILTON, (now Transcorp Hilton), SHERATON HOTEL (now Abuja Continental Hotel) SOFITEL HOTEL(now NICON Luxury)? Did he build the Defence Headquarters and the Ministry of Defence? Did he construct the INEC Complex, NYSC Headquarters, NCC Towers, Foreign Affairs Ministry Complex?

Was Wike the Minister when 360 units of houses for House of Representatives’ members, 109 Units for Senators and their presiding officers were built in Apo Legislators Quarters before 1999? Who built the Supreme Court Justices Quarters in Maitama before he came? Did he build the FCT Minister’ sprawling residence in Life Camp? Where was Wike when the imposing CBN complex was built? Was he the Minister when the National Hospital was constructed? Where was “Mr. Project” when the University of Abuja began in 1988? Was he there when the Law School in Bwari was built as Centre for Democratic Studies?

To skip Abuja@50 is to tell the children of the engineers who died building the city in the 1980s that their fathers’ work doesn’t count. It is to tell Nasir el-Rufai, who cleared shanties and enforced the master plan, that his work was worthless. It is to tell Hamza Abdullahi and Gado Nasko, who built satellite towns, Wuse 1 and 11, Maitama that they were placeholders. A nation that forgets its builders will never build again.

The danger to institutions:
The FCT is not a personal estate. The FCT is not Rivers State. The Minister is not an elected Governor. He is an appointee administering land, a territory that belongs to all 230 million Nigerians. By choosing to campaign in Rivers even on the day of Abuja@50, Wike sent a message: “My political base matters more than my constitutional duty.” That is how institutions die — when office holders treat public office as a platform for personal relevance.

The danger to continuity: Projects without memory
Infrastructure without memory is just concrete. The 31-day commissioning was impressive. Roads in Bwari, Kuje, Karu, Kwali, water in Gwagwalada, etc. But what was the narrative? It was “Wike did this. Wike did that” But who built the Water Plant in Lower Usuma Dam in Abuja about 40 years ago?
A proper Abuja@50 celebration would have said: “This road connects to the one el-Rufai started. This hospital expands the one Abba Gana conceived. This is the 50-year journey.”

Without that, we teach the next minister that he can also ignore the past and start his own 31-day show. That is how we get 50 years of abandoned projects.

The danger to national unity: Abuja belongs to all
Abuja was built to be neutral ground. Hausa, Fulani, Igbo, Yoruba, Ijaw, Kanuri, etc — all were supposed to see themselves in it. An Abuja@50 celebration would have brought former Heads of State, former Ministers, traditional rulers, and citizens together. It would have been a healing moment – of reunion, grace and fulfillment!

By skipping it, Wike reduced Abuja to “Wike’s Abuja”. That is divisive. That is the opposite of why Abuja was created.

The danger to the presidency: Constitutional responsibility dodged.
Section 299 of the Constitution says the President is the Governor of the FCT. Tinubu bears ultimate responsibility. That was why I pleaded with the president to apologise for the great miss in February, 2026. His silence on Abuja@50, and his Minister’s absence, suggest that the presidency does not understand symbolism. Great leaders celebrate milestones. They don’t hide from them. By not apologising, the President allows the impression that the FCT is on autopilot.

The danger to public trust: Promises without consequence
Wike promised a compendium. He didn’t deliver. In any serious democracy, a public official who fails to deliver a public promise owes the public an explanation.

Silence breeds cynicism. If the Minister can promise a book for 50 years of history and then forget it, why should a contractor believe his promise on a road?

The danger to Wike’s legacy: ‘Vanity over vision’.
Here is the irony. Wike has done real work in three years. He has completed and constructed mainly roads and connected water in some rural areas. He will certainly be remembered. But by refusing to honor the 47 years before him, he ensures his own work will also be forgotten quickly. Because the next minister will also do 31 days of commissioning and say “I did more than Wike.” Legacy is built on humility, not on braggadocio. You don’t become the “greatest FCT Minister” by insulting the sixteen (16) who came before you.

‘Can media blitz noise erase facts?’
Let us address the style directly. Minister Wike is loud. He is quotable. He is combative. The media loves him because he gives headlines and adverts. But noise is not achievement. And headlines are not history. You cannot shout over a monument called Aso Presidential Villa. You cannot tweet over the Supreme Court building. You cannot do a press interview that erases the International Conference Centre built in 1991.

History is not moved by volume. It is moved by bricks, by budgets, by time.
The 47 years before Wike produced physical monuments you can touch. Wike’s three (3) years have produced asphalt and paint — important, but not the sum total of Abuja.

To assume that “media blitz” can replace “historical record” is the same assumption that led to the Abuja@50 snub. It is the belief that if you talk enough, people will forget what came before. They won’t. Institutional diarists won’t. Historians won’t. And Nigerians won’t. Wike can still organise a blueprint for Abuja@50.

It is not too late to correct this tragic error. Here is what a proper Abuja@50 would have looked like:

1. The apology: A national broadcast by the President, with the Minister beside him: “We missed this. We are sorry. Here is how we will make it right.”
2. The compendium: Not a Wike book. A “Nigeria Book”, documenting every phase from 1976-2026.
4. The master-plan review: Launch a 50-year review. What did we get right? What did we get wrong? How do we protect Abuja from flooding, traffic, and urban decay?
5. 
   That would have been statesmanship. That would have been legacy.
   Let’s continue next week with why apology and humility matter for leaders and all that Wike needs to do to be remembered…

Follow our WhatsApp Channel

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

By Max Amuchie | The Sunday Stew

In the previous article, I introduced the concept of the Realm of the Long Term. I argued that every institution eventually arrives at a stage where the central question is no longer whether it can perform today, but whether it can continue creating public value across generations. At that point, management ceases to focus primarily on immediate performance and begins to think in terms of stewardship, continuity and institutional endurance.
The Realm of the Long Term is therefore not simply about longevity. Many organisations exist for decades without becoming enduring institutions. Some survive financially but lose their purpose. Others remain visible but gradually lose public trust. Still others disappear altogether because they fail to adapt to changing circumstances. The true test of an institution is not merely whether it continues to exist, but whether it continues to fulfil its mission while renewing itself across successive generations.
This transition does not occur automatically. Institutions become enduring because they deliberately cultivate the conditions that make endurance possible.

Within the Sundiata Post Model (SPM), the Realm of the Long Term rests upon seven mutually reinforcing pillars. Collectively, they determine whether an institution merely succeeds in the present or continues creating public value over the long term.
These pillars should not be understood as independent organisational functions. They form an integrated institutional system. The weakening of one inevitably weakens the others because enduring institutions are sustained not by isolated strengths but by the interaction of complementary capabilities.

Financial Sustainability

The first pillar upon which the Realm of the Long Term rests is Financial Sustainability. No institution, however noble its mission or compelling its vision, can endure without the economic capacity to sustain its work. Institutions do not survive on ideas alone. They survive because they deliberately create the financial resources that allow those ideas to mature into lasting public value.
Within the SPM, Financial Sustainability is understood differently from its conventional treatment in management literature. It is not simply about balancing budgets or generating profit. Rather, it is the strategic financing of a knowledge-producing institution. Its purpose is to preserve institutional independence while providing the resources required to sustain both the Media Operations Engine and the Knowledge Operations Engine over successive generations.
The Media Operations Engine generates value through journalism and public engagement. Its financial ecosystem includes advertising, brand partnerships, digital marketing, content syndication, commercial publishing, multimedia production, conferences, annual lectures, policy dialogues, executive forums and other public-facing institutional activities. These are not merely commercial ventures; they are mission-aligned enterprises that strengthen the institution’s capacity to produce independent journalism.
The Knowledge Operations Engine expands the institution’s economic horizon beyond the traditional economics of media. As original knowledge is created, new opportunities emerge through research grants, commissioned studies, partnerships with universities, think tanks and research institutions, collaborative projects with development organisations, consultancy, executive education, book publishing, biographies, proprietary datasets and the licensing of analytical frameworks, indices and methodologies. Knowledge itself becomes an institutional asset capable of creating both public value and sustainable income.
Financial Sustainability therefore extends beyond accounting. It encompasses the institution’s capacity to build partnerships, attract research funding, develop intellectual property and transform original ideas into enduring institutional assets. Its objective is not wealth for its own sake but the creation of an economic foundation that enables journalism, research and public service to flourish without compromising independence or integrity.

Human Capital and Leadership

If Financial Sustainability provides the economic foundation of an enduring institution, Human Capital and Leadership provide its human foundation. Institutions ultimately rise or decline because of the quality of the people who lead them and the culture they cultivate.
Within the Sundiata Post Model (SPM), Human Capital extends beyond recruitment. It encompasses the deliberate attraction, development, retention and renewal of talented professionals who possess not only technical competence but also a deep commitment to the institution’s mission and values. An institution enters the Realm of the Long Term when it stops merely filling positions and begins cultivating future generations of leaders.
Leadership, in this context, is understood as stewardship rather than ownership. Leaders are temporary custodians of permanent institutions. Their responsibility is not simply to achieve success during their tenure but to leave the institution stronger than they found it.
This requires deliberate investment in professional development, mentorship, succession planning, organisational culture and continuous learning. Journalists must refine their craft. Researchers must deepen their methodological competence. Editors must develop not only editorial judgment but also institutional leadership. Knowledge must be transferred systematically so that experience accumulates rather than disappears with the departure of individuals.
The true measure of leadership is therefore not personal accomplishment but institutional continuity. Great institutions are remembered not only for the ideas they produce but also for the generations of people they develop.

Knowledge Stewardship

If Financial Sustainability provides the institution’s economic foundation and Human Capital and Leadership provide its human foundation, then Knowledge Stewardship provides its intellectual foundation. It is the pillar that distinguishes a knowledge-producing institution from a content-producing organisation.
Every institution generates knowledge through its daily operations. Journalists gather information. Editors exercise judgment. Researchers analyse data. Executives make strategic decisions. Public engagements produce new insights. Yet in many organisations, this knowledge disappears almost as quickly as it is created. Staff members leave. Documents become inaccessible. Institutional lessons are forgotten. The organisation repeatedly solves problems it has already encountered because it has failed to preserve what it has learned.
The SPM rejects this cycle of institutional amnesia. Knowledge Stewardship is the deliberate creation, preservation, governance and transmission of institutional knowledge so that learning accumulates rather than disappears. It transforms experience into institutional capital.
Within this framework, knowledge is regarded as a strategic asset. Editorial archives, research datasets, methodological notes, interview transcripts, policy papers, technical documentation, working papers and institutional records are systematically organised, preserved and made retrievable. The objective is not merely to store information but to ensure that future generations inherit a stronger intellectual foundation than their predecessors.
Knowledge Stewardship also demands standards. Institutions must maintain rigorous methodology, research quality and knowledge governance. Intellectual assets must be documented, verified and curated in ways that make them useful not only today but decades into the future. Preservation without organisation produces archives. Preservation with governance produces institutional intelligence.
Ultimately, Knowledge Stewardship enables an institution to think beyond the present. It ensures that every investigation, every research project, every conference and every publication contributes to a cumulative body of knowledge that strengthens the institution over time.

Governance

No institution can endure on good intentions alone. Enduring institutions are sustained by systems that outlive personalities. Governance is the pillar that provides those systems.
Within the SPM, governance extends beyond corporate compliance or administrative oversight. It is the framework through which authority is exercised responsibly, decisions are made transparently, ethical standards are maintained and institutional purpose is protected across successive generations.
Good governance establishes clarity of roles, accountability, strategic oversight and disciplined decision-making. It ensures that editorial independence is protected, research integrity is preserved and institutional resources are managed responsibly. It enables institutions to navigate periods of growth, uncertainty and leadership transition without losing their identity.
Governance also provides continuity. While leaders change, governance ensures that institutional principles remain stable. It creates confidence among employees, partners, researchers, donors, investors and the wider public because decisions are guided by established systems rather than individual preferences.
Within the Realm of the Long Term, governance is not an administrative necessity. It is an institutional safeguard that protects the mission from the pressures of the moment.

Innovation and Adaptation

History offers few examples of institutions that survived for generations without adapting to change. Enduring institutions preserve their purpose, but they continually renew the methods through which that purpose is pursued.
Innovation and Adaptation therefore constitute the fifth pillar of the Realm of the Long Term.
Innovation should not be understood narrowly as technological advancement. It includes new editorial practices, new research methodologies, new products, new partnerships, new business models and new ways of engaging society. Institutions that stop learning eventually stop leading.
Adaptation is equally important. Political environments change. Economies fluctuate. Technologies evolve. Audience expectations shift. New competitors emerge. Institutions that refuse to adapt gradually become irrelevant, while those that abandon their mission in pursuit of every new trend lose their identity.
The SPM therefore advocates disciplined adaptation. Methods may evolve, but mission must remain constant. Institutions should be flexible in execution while remaining steadfast in purpose.
Innovation and continuity are not opposing forces. They are complementary disciplines that enable institutions to remain both relevant and recognisable across generations.

Trust and Reputation

Among all institutional assets, none is more valuable—or more difficult to rebuild—than trust.
Trust cannot be purchased. It cannot be manufactured through marketing campaigns or public relations. It is earned gradually through consistent competence, integrity, transparency and service to the public.
Within the SPM, trust is not merely an ethical aspiration; it is a strategic institutional asset. It influences audience confidence, research credibility, partnerships, funding opportunities, talent recruitment and public legitimacy. Every editorial decision, research publication, partnership and public engagement either strengthens or weakens that trust.
Reputation is trust accumulated over time. It represents the public’s collective judgment about whether an institution consistently fulfils its mission with integrity and professionalism. Once established, reputation becomes one of an institution’s greatest competitive advantages because it cannot easily be replicated by newer entrants.
This pillar reminds us that institutions are remembered less for what they claim about themselves than for what society consistently experiences from them.
In the Realm of the Long Term, trust is not simply protected. It is continuously earned.

Mission Continuity

The final pillar is Mission Continuity. It is the principle that binds the other six together.
Institutions that endure understand the difference between purpose and method. Methods must evolve. Technologies will change. Leadership will change. Organisational structures will change. Even business models may change. But the institution’s fundamental purpose must remain clear.
Mission Continuity is the discipline of preserving that purpose across generations while allowing the institution to renew itself continuously. It ensures that each generation inherits not merely an organisation but a sense of direction.
This requires intentional succession planning, cultural continuity and long-term strategic thinking. Every generation of leaders should regard itself not as the owner of the institution but as its steward. Their responsibility is to strengthen the institution and pass it on in better condition than they received it.
Mission Continuity also protects institutions from becoming prisoners of short-term pressures. It provides the stability required to make decisions that may not produce immediate rewards but contribute to enduring public value.
The SPM therefore concludes that institutions become permanent not because they resist change, but because they preserve purpose while embracing renewal.

The Logic of the Long Term

The Seven Pillars derive their strength not from their individual importance but from the way they reinforce one another. This dynamic constitutes what the Sundiata Post Model calls the Logic of the Long Term—the principle that enduring institutions are sustained not by isolated organisational strengths but by the interaction of mutually reinforcing capabilities.

The Seven Pillars should not be understood as independent organisational functions. They operate as a single institutional system. Financial Sustainability enables investment in people. Human Capital strengthens Knowledge Stewardship. Knowledge Stewardship improves Governance. Governance protects Trust and Reputation. Trust expands opportunities for Innovation and Adaptation. Innovation reinforces Mission Continuity. Mission Continuity, in turn, strengthens the institution’s ability to secure the resources necessary for Financial Sustainability.
The Realm of the Long Term therefore rests not upon the strength of any single pillar but upon the interaction of all seven. Institutions rarely fail because one pillar collapses overnight. More often, decline begins with the gradual weakening of one pillar until the pressures spread across the entire system.

The Seven Pillars, therefore, constitute the institutional architecture of the Realm of the Long Term. They explain not only how institutions survive, but how they continue creating public value across generations.
Whether in journalism, research, education or other knowledge-intensive fields, institutions that deliberately strengthen these pillars increase their capacity not merely to survive, but to endure across generations by preserving purpose while continually renewing themselves.

Trust is sacred. Stay seasoned.

•Dr. Max Amuchie is a Scholar-Journalist, Media CEO, Lead Researcher at the Sundiata Post Intelligence Unit (SPIU), a member of the League of Nigerian Columnists, and an Expert Member and Peer Reviewer, Behavioural and Social Sciences at ScienceOpen. He is the architect of the Sundiata Post Model for twenty-first-century journalism, the Insecurity Triad framework for African security analysis, the Trinity of Sovereignty Decay (formerly Trinity of State Decay) theory, and the Decoupling Sovereignty Index (DSI)—original frameworks for understanding institutional development, conflict, state decay, and sovereignty in the Global South.
X: @MaxAmuchie

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Follow our WhatsApp Channel

By Chidi Anselm Odinkalu

Around Africa, many associate the job of a judge with the easy life. All they do, they believe, is cozy up to politicians and give them what they want. The reality, however, is a lot harsher and this is not exactly new.

When the United Nations adopted the Basic Principles on the Independence of the Judiciary in 1985, it omitted any direct mention of attacks on the person or wellbeing of the judge. Justice Mavedzenge, an advocate from Zimbabwe, distinguishes between attacks on the independence of judges on the one hand and the persecution of judges on the other. The latter is different from the former because it seeks to harm the lives, person, or wellbeing of the judge or their family.

On 21 September 1972, for instance, elements in the army of Uganda’s Field Marshall Idi Amin Dada, abducted Chief Justice, Benedicto Kiwanuka, from his chambers at the Supreme Court. Four days later, Marshall Amin personally shot and killed Chief Justice Kiwanuka at the State Lodge in Nakasero, Kampala. Kiwanuka’s crime was that he had dared to write to Idi Amin about the killings taking place under him and had also advised him “that the expulsion of the Indians from Uganda was wrong and against international law.”

Elective government in Africa has not necessarily grown more subtle. When they convened on 3 February 2020 to deliver judgment in the petition concerning the country’s presidential election from the previous year, all five judges of the Constitutional Court of Malawi wore bullet-proof vests. They lived to be celebrated for their courage.

Raphael Yanyi was not so lucky. Around 26 May 2020, the Police in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) announced that Yanyi, a senior judge, “had suffered a suspected heart attack.” The Ministry of Justice quickly clarified, however, that the remains of the judge “did not exhibit any toxic substances.” Following an autopsy, Justice minister, Celestin Tunda Ya Kasende, disclosed that Judge Yanyi had died from “blows of sharp points or knife-like objects, which were thrust into his head.”

Contrary to the claim by the police, the judge did not die of a heart attack. He was murdered. At the time of his killing, Raphael Yanyi was presiding over the high-profile corruption trial of Vital Kamerhe, Chief of Staff to President Felix Tshisekedi.

It is assumed that politicians, government, or ruling parties have a monopoly over such crimes of state. Quite often, however, when judges are attacked, the boundaries between state and non-state can seem blurred.

On 30 June 1982, unknown persons abducted three serving judges of the High Court of Ghana: Cecilia Koranteng-Addow, Frederick Poku Sarkodee, and Kwadwo Agyei Agyepong. They transported the judges to the Bundase Military Firing Range near Accra where they were shot and killed. To cover up the act, the perpetrators incinerated their bodies. Their charred remains were located the following morning. Joachim Amartey Quaye, a senior member of the ruling Provisional National Defence Council, PNDC, was one of the people found guilty of the judges’ murder. On 18 August 1983, he was executed by firing squad.

On other occasions, non-state actors can be enabled by uniformed venality. In 1985, George Iyamu, a Deputy Superintendent of Police, arranged to frame Donald Ikomi, a judge and Chairman of the Armed Robbery and Firearms Tribunal in Benin, for the murder of his Police Orderly. Iyamu’s motive was to deflect from the trial before Justice Ikomi of Kingsley Eweka, a member of the infamous robbery gang of Lawrence Anini. Justice Ikomi lost his job as a judge after being charged with the murder. He was eventually exculpated but his untimely death at 56 in 1992 was not unconnected with the trauma from the trial.

The contemporary arc of the judicial trajectory around the continent reflects intersecting trends of both “regime capture of the courts” and willing abdication of independence by the highest levels of judicial leadership. However, in many African countries these days, the presumed monopolies of the state are contested by sundry entities exercising quasi-state capacities, which enable them to target judicial officers at will or bring them to harm.

At the beginning of January 2012, for instance, an unknown gunman entered the house of Baba Loskurima, Registrar of the High Court of Borno State in north-east Nigeria and “fired several shots into Baba’s head and chest with a Kalashnikov rifle in front of his wife and children.” He stood no chance.

Nine months later, in September of the same year, Zanna Mallam Gana, the state Attorney-General was also assassinated. The killings of both Baba Loskurima and Zana Mallam Gana were suspected to have been the handiwork of Islamist insurgents from Boko Haram.

These were not the first attacks by suspected non-state actors in Nigeria against judicial figures. In 2009, Florence Duroha-Igwe, a judge of the High Court of Imo State in south-east Nigeria, suffered an attack in which both her driver and Police Orderly sustained severe gunshot injuries.

The following year, the judge-president of the state’s Customary Court of Appeal, Ambrose Egu, and senior Magistrate, Pauline Njemanze, were abducted around the Sam Mbakwe International Cargo Airport near the state capital, Owerri.

In March 2011, high court judges in the state embarked on a strike to protest the abduction of one their colleagues, Theophilus Nzekwe.

Emboldened by the incapacity of the Nigerian state to exact accountability, these attacks grew in both audacity and intensity. The perpetrators began snatching judges for ransom.

In October 2019, a senior Justice of Appeal from Imo State, Chioma Nwosu-Iheme, was abducted in Benin City while on duty presiding over election disputes. She spent a fortnight in captivity.

In September 2021, former Chief Judge of Abia State, Nnenna Oti, was abducted in Orlu, Imo State.

Seven months earlier, Presiding Justice of Appeal in Owerri, Rita Pemu, needed an extra supply of native wiles to survive the perils of abduction.

Janet Gimba, a judge of the Upper Customary Court of Kaduna State in north-west Nigeria, was abducted with four of her children on 24 June 2024 by reputed bandits. They subsequently killed one of the children to drive home their bargain for both money and prisoners. The surviving children were released after 15 days in captivity.

On the date in June on which Judge Janet Gimba and her children were abducted, in the Borno-Yobe borderlands in north-east Nigeria, elements suspected to be from the Islamic State, West Africa Province (ISWAP), abducted Haruna Mshelia, a senior judge of the High Court of Borno State. He was taken with his wife, Binta; their driver, and an Orderly. The judge regained his freedom after 76 days.

In June 2025, Ebiyerin Umukoro, a judge of the High Court of Bayelsa State, was abducted around the capital city, Yenagoa. His ordeal lasted 12 days.

In the early hours of Sunday, 26 July 2026, unknown persons abducted Faruku Hassan Bunza, a judge of the state High Court, from his home on Zogirma Road in Bunza, Kebbi State in north-west Nigeria. Subsequently, they reportedly transmitted a ransom demand of 200 million Naira as condition for his release.

Three days later, Mohammed Muktar, a Shariah Court judge in Matazu Local Government Area of Katsina State, also in north-west Nigeria, avoided death or abduction when he “quickly escaped through a window moments before [armed bandits] reached the courtroom.”

In its reaction to the abduction of Justice Faruku Bunza, the African Judges and Jurists Forum (AJJF) identifies why these rising attacks on judges matter. The Forum points out that “the abduction of a judge strikes at values that lie at the heart of every constitutional democracy”, and that “the administration of justice depends upon judges being able to perform their constitutional duties free from fear, intimidation, coercion or violence.”

The question remains how the judiciary and others respond to judges caught between the twin threats of capture by the state or erasure by non-state actors. The idea of special protection squads for judges may be unsustainable.

Government must show zero tolerance for those who attack or abduct judges. Punishment must be swift and assured. Of course, well founded perceptions of judicial complicity in the perversions of electoral justice do not help. All must work hard to restore the idea of courts as places where judges sit to do justice.

A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at [email protected] 

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Follow our WhatsApp Channel